


Dear Journal: Who Needs Feelings Anyways?

by TaikoTurtle



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: But mostly fluff, F/F, I think this is a crackfic, Lilshotgun, Some Humor, a little bit of ooc perhaps, but regardless, hope you enjoy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25782178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaikoTurtle/pseuds/TaikoTurtle
Summary: Dear Journal,I say this with a heavy heart, as this rarely occurs, but I am a liar. I will admit, I fought the urge quite admirably at first, however Mary just - she just irked me so - and thus I dug you out from your resting place and felt the need to document her absurdity—for posterity’s sake of course.Today we had routine sparring with short sword weaponry. Mother Superion instructed for us to choose a partner, and of all people to challenge, she picked me.Me.She even looked me straight in the eyes and said, “You ready for this baby girl?”The sheer audacity.
Relationships: Sister Lilith/Shotgun Mary (Warrior Nun)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 74





	Dear Journal: Who Needs Feelings Anyways?

**Author's Note:**

> Special shout out to King on our Discord server for always feeding us with that sweet, sweet Lilshotgun content. It's because of you that I ship this pairing, so I hope you enjoy. :)

It’s an eyesore, a blemish on the otherwise spotless surface of her desk in her living quarters, mocking her with its ebony, pebbled leather and fresh paper smell. A premium ballpoint pen with an onyx, brass-metal barrel and gold accents rests beside it and it’s fitting how both gifts are black like her heart. Honestly, Lilith wants nothing more than to chuck it out her window, because who needs _feelings_ anyways? Nothing good ever came about when those nasty things were involved, so there’s no point in exploring them now, right?

Except Camila thought otherwise, hence the gift she left along with the most despicably cute sticky note attached to the cover donning a smiley face and encouraging words in a beautiful, cursive script.

_You should try it sometime! : )_

Lilith turns sharply, the sound of her boots pacing an even rhythm across the room as she halts at the window to stare down at the courtyard below, the other sister warriors lounging about outside soaking in the sun’s warmth. Camila and Beatrice appear at ease sitting on a bench beneath a tree’s gentle shade while looking on as Mary and Ava seem to be… wrestling or something; Lilith honestly can’t tell because Mary has Ava in a headlock and it’s hardly a competition given Ava’s haphazard arm flailing.

Of course Mary has the upper hand. There’s no doubt in Lilith’s mind that the constant thorn in her side is the dominant one in that lopsided matchup - she’s witnessed it first-hand, experienced the impressive skill _personally_ \- it would be an affront to say that Mary is anything short of extraordinary in the combat department. As much as she jabs at the girl’s abilities, she knows they’re empty insults. 

Well, _mostly._

But this is Lilith’s _day off,_ what is she doing cooped up inside? She should be out accomplishing productive activities, like improving her projectile accuracy or polishing her private collection of daggers—definitely _not_ thinking about Mary and her insufferable physical prowess or the fact that her fighting style simultaneously exudes both raw power and fluid grace akin to nature’s flowing rivers and raging rapids. Not to mention the mesmerizing glow she emanates after a hard workout, how the sweat drips down the expanse of her impeccable skin and—

“This is all _Camila’s_ fault,” Lilith growls as she tears her gaze away from the window and stomps to her desk. The iron chair scrapes across the stone floor, yanked back forcefully with burning ire and one too many buzzing thoughts swarming her mind. 

Snatching up the harmless writing tool with a vice-like grip, she flips open the journal, creasing it neatly down the center before bringing down the pen like the hammer of God

* * *

Dear Journal,

This feels foolish. Why am I addressing you as if you are a sentient being? You are mere pieces of paper, bound together by the will of man and wrapped up in a synthetic skin. You are nothing if not a collection of the dead, and I hate this, I hate everything. Journals are for children and I am above such frivolous trinkets. I haven’t a clue as to why Camila thought I needed this, but I also could not bring myself to toss her gift away; I was raised with decent courtesy after all.

Regardless, this shall be my first and last entry. May this never see the light of day again.

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

I say this with a heavy heart, as this rarely occurs, but I am a _liar._ I will admit, I fought the urge quite admirably at first, however Mary just - she just irked me _so_ \- and thus I dug you out from your resting place and felt the need to document her absurdity—for posterity’s sake of course.

Today we had routine sparring with short sword weaponry. Mother Superion instructed for us to choose a partner, and of all people to challenge, she picked me. 

_Me._

She even looked me straight in the eyes and said, “You ready for this baby girl?”

The sheer _audacity._

Of course I’m ready, I am _always_ prepared for a fight. She may have bested me on the ship and at the harbor, but that was a fluke; I was blinded by rage and regrettable pride, therefore my judgement was appropriately clouded. But now? I am at my _peak._ I’ve honed my skills and I have the unknown forces of the underworld on my side and though blessed or cursed as it may be, I cannot deny the advantages it provides.

So we engaged in a dance of sorts, testing and feeling out one another, and I must confess, she has become more patient these days, more calculated, but clearly still not enough to _not_ make the first move. So reckless, charging in, it was rather easy for me to react defensively as she always makes this mistake time and time again.

Naturally I won two of the rounds, but the third was debatable at best because of her reprehensible tactics. We were trading blows, going toe-to-toe, tit for tat, and I knew she was getting fatigued, well noted by the perspiration accumulating on her smooth, glistening skin, but just as I was going to deliver the finishing strike, she caught me off guard in the worst way possible.

She _winked_ at me. 

Honestly, who does that? In the middle of a fight? To what purpose does this serve? In precisely _zero_ situations would this action benefit the user. In all my years of training with private tutors the best that money could hire, I have never seen nor heard of such unorthodox methods and yet…

And yet...

I cannot begin to put to words the pain that shocked my chest in that instant—it was alarming to say the least. I want to say pain because I don’t know what else it could have been. My whole body had such a visceral reaction that that’s the only sound explanation, so I will leave it at that.

Anyways, she capitalized on my momentary weakness and managed to get a solid hit in, thus procuring the last victory for herself.

Overall I won, but it was not a perfect set. 

Curse her.

Curse Mary.

Curse Mary and her winking ways.

That is all.

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

This pain in my chest. 

It won’t go away and I cannot fathom _why._

It’s not everyday that it occurs, no, there are some days where I am fine, where I can go about living my life as normal as can be. 

But other days? Not so much.

There are times in which I feel the dire need to clutch at my heart, for it burns in my chest like a demon trying to claw its way out of a cage, a sinister beast of carnal origins. I worry that my journey to the underworld has affected me more than I care to admit, but as I am unable to identify the source of this pain, I cannot confirm nor deny its contributions to my current circumstances. 

All I know is that it strikes at the most inconvenient moments.

For instance, I walked through the dining hall today holding a full tray of food and it just so happened that Mary was already there, cleaning her shotguns on the tables. First off, that is not the time nor the place and I believe such daily rituals should be reserved for the privacy of one’s own room. Secondly, it’s just _unsanitary._ Debris and grime, on the tables that _we_ eat at? Where is her decency? Her consideration for others? Oh that’s right, she _has_ none.

Anyways, I digress. I walked with my tray in hand, fully prepared to reprimand her for cleaning her weapons at the table when she glanced at me and we made eye contact. The searing heat that ripped through my torso became nigh unbearable and I stumbled, I _actually stumbled,_ like a common _fool._ I dropped a perfectly good apple and Mary laughed with her disgusting, charming face and the pain intensified to the point I was worried my claws may manifest against my own will. I chanced a look down at my hands and luckily there was no transformation, but the ache in my heart throbbed nonetheless and worried me so. If I cannot get the demon in me under control, I fear I may become a danger to my fellow sisters and my friends. 

I cannot bear that thought because this is my home and they are my family. 

If I lose the OCS, I lose everything.

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

I think I have found a pattern to the madness - a root cause if you will - and I've identified it as none other than Shotgun Mary herself.

Whenever I feel like I’ve been shot by an arrow, it’s directly caused by Mary’s proximity or involvement in some way, shape, or form. 

Yesterday, I tended to the garden in the back with Camila. We watered the vegetables, made sure the soil contained enough hydration and had the proper nutrients, and not a single leaf or rock lay out of place. It was perhaps the most mundane task in my life, but a necessary one and Camila enjoyed it, which automatically made it less dreary than it could have been.

We were so close to finishing - so near to the end - when Mary showed up. 

Again, _why_ was she even there? She was not on garden duty with us and yet she continues to haunt my every waking moment like a relentless spectre.

_Hey you two, what’s crackin’?_ She said in her typical laidback fashion. 

We were _gardening._ Did she not _have eyes?_

But I became paralyzed, I could not even insult her because unlike the rest of the Order, she is not bound by vows or her faith and thus not required to wear a traditional habit like the rest of us. Casual clothing hugged her body like a second skin and oh my _God_ did I feel things—pain mostly, among other emotions I could not accurately identify due to the breakdown of my mental faculties. Despite the heat, she had on a fitted black tank top and long black pants with worn combat boots and all the air escaped my lungs and the monster in my chest lashed out with a vengeance.

It was most peculiar, how my mouth felt of sand and my limbs reduced to jelly, and when the silence stretched on for far longer than it should have, Camila stepped in and smiled, graciously offering a lovely response and update that we were nearly finished for the day. 

Mary’s eyes bore into me, as if penetrating my soul and for once, I could not hold her gaze. 

I’m not sure what’s happening to me, but I know now the truth: Mary is the cause.

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

You are proving to be more beneficial than previously anticipated; I must remember to thank Camila for her incredible foresight. 

Now that I have identified the issue, namely one incessantly bothersome girl named Mary, I can properly address the problem. The only caveat being that addressing the problem seems to be insurmountably arduous. I am not one to back down from a challenge, but Mary is just… on another level. Not a good or better level than myself, mind you, just _different._

Every little action, every little remark, every tiny, minute, _miniscule_ event involving Mary exceeds my expectations and for whatever reason beyond my grasp, I cannot comprehend why she is so unpredictable. While I loathe to admit it, she’s both frustrating… and exhilarating, all in the same breath.

The pain has not gone away.

It’s only _intensified._

The logical portion of my mind screams the answer for why my heart hurts so deeply, but it’s a far, diminutive cry, drowned out in comparison to the booming echoes of my parents’ voices. My family has contributed centuries’ worth of halo-bearers and countless warriors dedicated to the cause. They all proved to be exemplary warriors and I cannot deviate from my family’s expectations. 

I joined the OCS for one reason and one reason alone. 

Ava may have the halo now, but that may not always be the case and thus I must be prepared and ever vigilant. 

There’s no future in distractions.

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

I… I cannot write. My thoughts are heavy, weighted by the recent mission. You will have to wait.

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

I’m not sure what to make of this last mission. I told myself there was no future in distractions. 

I _swore_ by it.

Turns out, lying is easier the second time around.

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

You must be dying to hear of my most recent escapade, as all journals do of their owner. 

To be quite frank, I don’t know what to make of it. 

A distress signal reached our facility and Mother Superion dispatched us to deal with the potential threat. Only armed with the intel that the city was overrun by perhaps five to ten hostiles, we piled into a van and headed towards Valencia. Upon arrival, the situation was far worse than we imagined. Carving our way through the hordes of wraith demons, I was rather impressed that Ava’s training actually amounted to tangible results; the private lessons from Sister Beatrice every weekend paid off in spades.

We managed to clear out a majority of the buildings and streets under the cover of nightfall, but that very blanket of darkness proved to be a pitfall. I should have kept my senses, been more aware and in tune with our surroundings, but I failed to notice the assailant leaping from the nearby alleyway until it was too late.

The enthralled man managed to sink his kitchen knife into Mary’s shoulder and the cry of surprise that came from her lips… I’m not sure if that is what set me off, or perhaps the visual of watching her crumple to the ground, but I… _lost control._

I trained my whole life to be level-headed under pressure, as all great leaders must possess this skill since the halo instinctively responds to emotions, but in that instant, my mind went blank, wiped clean like a fresh slate. I could not contain the unbridled fury boiling in my blood or the scorching lava in my veins; all I saw was _red_ and a dead man walking.

Before I knew it, I was hovering over his body and I watched as the light drained from his glassy eyes along with the pool of sanguine blood forming beneath his corpse. My nails dripped with the life of this poor stranger’s soul, but I was not bothered by it in the least, for my mind only held one thought.

_Mary._

She was kneeling on the ground clutching her shoulder, but she was okay, she would _live._

I rushed to her side and pulled her into an embrace. 

I still do not know what bewitched me to behave in such a manner, but the way she sunk into my body like we fit together so seamlessly, the way a tiny sigh escaped her lips, ghosting against my ear and sending a shiver down my spine—everything finally clicked into place with minimal resistance.

It’s a terrifying thought, what that shiver meant, and I’m not sure how to handle this information still. 

Once I figure it out, you will be the first to know.

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

Living with the knowledge that I… perhaps… may or may not… have a… a… an infatuation of sorts… on someone, is conceivably the worst punishment one could wish upon their greatest enemy. I’m not saying I’ve figured it all out already, but the signs are… hard to deny. No distractions, I tell myself, over and over again, but to no avail. Like the devil himself whispering in my ear, I cannot shake free from the grasp Mary has around my heart. It is vastly infuriating and deeply disheartening.

I am disappointed in myself, watching all my years of a carefully curated upbringing slip through my fingers like grains of sand as if I retained nothing of value from my illustrious instructors. Oh, if only my parents were here to witness my descent into madness—the things they’d _say._

Lilith, get your head out of the clouds, we did not raise you like this. (You hardly raised me at all)

Lilith, your form is slipping. Tighten up your grappling technique or you will fall behind.

Lilith, are you _trying_ to be overlooked by the halo again by another nobody?

No, mother, I honestly couldn’t care less about the halo these days, is what I would say if I weren’t such a… coward. I’ve made my peace with Ava and while the girl began as nothing more than a lowly urchin in my eyes, watching her progress over the course of the past year has admittedly been nothing short of miraculous. She no longer flees in the face of danger; instead she’s often the first one running _into_ it. Brave, but stupid. We can work on that. Sister Beatrice is a good influence on her though, I think. With time, Ava will continue to improve.

Me on the other hand? I am not so sure of my purpose anymore. Protect the Halo-Bearer at all costs, certainly, but beyond that? What am I? What does my future hold? Am I allowed to have my own desires? These questions often haunt my mind in the dead of night when the rest of the world sleeps, but more often than not, it’s not the halo that occupies my thoughts, but rather a certain someone.

This pain now has a name, but I dare not speak it.

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

God, grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change

the courage to change the things I can

and the wisdom to know the difference.

It has been far too long since my last confession, I think I shall do so today.

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

I regret to inform you that I shall be hiding away, sequestered until the remainder of my pitiful life comes to a merciful end.

Today, as I was polishing my blades, Mary remarked how my knife collection looked _dope,_ and while I am not sure her use of the word was accurate, I could not formulate a proper, sensible response. She pulled out a compact, dagger with a pearlescent white hilt from a holder strapped across her chest and placed it on the table. 

Here, you can add mine to your collection, she had said, so you’ll always have a piece of me with you. I call her Ivory.

Gifts in my life rarely came without a price, as there was always some ulterior motive; buying favor with my parents, seeking my family’s good graces, nobody ever just… gave without expecting anything in return. This was my first sincere present with no strings attached and it was something so personal as a custom weapon. Mary, with her charismatic smile and sparkling glint in her eyes, made my heart leap into my throat and I was _this_ close to passing out. The longer I beheld her tender smile, the less my brain wanted to cooperate with my tongue, and the following sentence that spilled forth hearkened back to a time when our only mode of communication travelled through our fists. I concede that hostility and annoyance are my default states.

“Thanks, I hate it.”

Yes, I said that and no, it made absolutely no sense. She chuckled at me. _Chuckled._ Like how adults laugh at their kids when they misbehave, but she affably shook her head before walking away with a nonchalant shrug. 

I… I have no words for what transpired. All coherency and mastery of the English language escapes me whenever she’s nearby and I abhor the effect she has over me. I become reduced to a babbling moron and I am not accustomed to behaving this way.

Is this how Ava feels on the daily? 

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

I thought that staying in my room was a perfectly acceptable solution to my prior embarrassment, but even then, I was not safe. 

Mary came by today to check on me. 

She knocked on my door, startling me out of my thoughts and I fully expected Sister Beatrice to fill the entryway; _not_ the subject of my nightmares. She brought me a snack consisting of bread and fresh fruit. It was nice. Under all that tough demeanor and rough facade, she has a gentle, nurturing side that not everyone has the privilege to experience. Her features painted a picture of concern as I accepted the offering and I think she wanted to say something because she did that odd thing with her lips before biting them, but I appreciate that she did not press the silence—I don’t think I would have been able to handle it otherwise. 

I thanked her kindly. She nodded and bid me farewell, and the best I could do was smile. 

She returned it in full before closing the door behind her.

Maybe there is hope for me after all.

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

Today, the sisters and I walked through town to pick up supplies for Cat’s Cradle in the local nearby market. It wasn’t a crowded day in comparison to the other times we’ve frequented it, but a sizable amount of civilians lined the streets with arms full of groceries and various necessities. On our trek back to the van, which should have been uneventful, was _entirely_ eventful.

I will preface this with the fact that I have endured countless hours of training; I naturally have a warrior’s instinct ingrained in every fibre of my being. That being said, when Mary threw her arm around my shoulder and leaned in close, I… _might_ have overreacted. In my defense, the aroma of her coconut and vanilla body wash and the way her body brushed against mine lit every nerve in my limbs on fire. As if burned simply by her mere touch, my reflexive reaction was instantaneous.

I shoved her.

Forcefully.

Into a nearby food stall.

Do not _judge_ me, journal, you would have done the same. I never recommend surprising a sister warrior in such a unique way, so truthfully, Mary brought it upon herself. The wide look in her appalled eyes and the bits of cabbage stuck in her hair brought out a genuine laugh from myself that I didn’t know I was even capable of anymore. Despite the owner of the stand yelling at us for compensation, the smile Mary flashed me more than made up for the collateral damage. 

I did nothing wrong.

Lilith 

* * *

Dear Journal,

I believe Mary is testing my patience. She’s getting… bolder in her behavior as of late. 

Why, just the other day before our sparring match, she rolled up her sleeves in preparation and it was not my fault that her sculpted arms drew my full and complete attention. So much so, that I once again proved my capacity to stoop to Ava’s level by carelessly catching my foot on the training mat beneath me and lurched forward. 

If flagrantly ogling her arms from afar was bad, then falling into them was like slipping into hell. All I felt were firm, lithe muscles beneath my fingers as I attempted to steady myself both mentally and physically, and by the time I stood back up, I was met with Mary’s trademark incredulity, mocking me with her quirked up brow and stupid grin before she spoke out in a sly manner.

_You should be more careful, otherwise I’d say you were falling for me._

I punched her immediately.

No regrets. 

(Okay only a little)

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

I have made a fatal error today and thus shall once more die a slow death alone, or at least until Mary comes looking for me again.

She passed by me in the courtyard today, as the pleasant weather drew many of the sister warriors outside to bathe in the warm, inviting sun. As she grew near, we made eye contact, nothing crazy, nothing out of the ordinary, and then she said it.

_Yeah, I love you._

So casual, so easily the words spilled from her mouth - I was wholly _unprepared_ \- but I… I did not want to leave her wondering if I did not return her feelings, so I blurted out without assessing the situation properly.

_I love you too._

She stopped in her tracks, her face a blank mask, stoic and indecipherable, my heart a crippled mess while I waited with bated breath. Each second that ticked by made my skin crawl and it reminded me of the initial period of time immediately following my escape from hell, an unfamiliar stranger in my own body.

Without breaking her expression, Mary tapped on her ear and that was when I noticed the bluetooth earpiece. 

She was not addressing _me._

I am not one for exaggerations, but to say my heart sank into the pit of my stomach to be devoured alive by my own humiliation would be an understatement. 

I did not stick around to explain myself, nor did I dwell on the hurt and confusion that briefly flashed across her eyes before I teleported away.

So here I am, wishing for a Tarask to sweep me away to avoid the inevitable confrontation I know that I cannot escape.

Lilith

* * *

Dear Journal,

Mary has yet to visit. It has been three days since… the _incident._

Perhaps she has come to her senses and realized that she does not belong here at the OCS and has fled to lead a more happy, fulfilling life without conflict.

We never needed her. 

I never needed her. 

She never needed me.

Lilith

* * *

_“Argh!”_

A hoarse grunt erupts from between Lilith’s clenched teeth as her fist slams into the wooden training dummy, the dull _thump_ of her knuckles echoing in the emptiness of the main hall at midnight. She could hardly sleep, the anxiety of not knowing Mary’s whereabouts plaguing her every waking thoughts, so she chose to train since fighting came easy.

Punctuating each word with a swift blow to the dummy, Lilith ignores the painful sting on her bruised fists and in her withering heart. 

“I–” 

_thwack_

“–don’t–”

_thwack thump_

“–need–”

_thwack_

A familiar voice calls out from behind, “Hey.”

Lilith pivots around and gasps. _“Mary?”_

“In the flesh,” she says tentatively. “Mighty odd hours to be practicing, but hey, you’ve always been an overachiever.”

Too many emotions flood Lilith’s senses all at once, bombarding her from all directions. She wants to scream with anger, her blood boiling with seething rage because Mary looks _fine,_ as if she hadn’t just disappeared without a trace, only to come waltzing back in like nothing had happened. She wants to laugh because she’d been a paranoid fool, assuming the worst of someone who’s just as dedicated to the Order as anyone else in the organization. Lilith wants to do many things, but the volatile whirlwind of feelings ravaging her body keeps her rooted in place, unable to move or speak.

Holding each other’s gaze in silence, the only noise breaking the spell being Lilith’s haggard breathing from physical exertion, they remain stationary as they get a feel for one another. Thousands of questions and concerns flit through her mind.

Where did you go?

Why didn’t you tell me?

I was worried sick!

“Lilith…?” Mary’s muted voice drifts in the air and Lilith plucks the most critical thought from her hazy, clouded mind.

“I thought you _left_ me.”

Her voice sounds small and defeated, barely above a whisper, but the pure anguish behind it speaks _volumes_ and in the blink of an eye, Mary’s holding Lilith in a tight embrace, her long strides making short work of the distance between them. Lilith wraps her arms around Mary’s frame, clutching on for dear life as if the girl would become smoke in the wind should she dare let go. 

“I would never leave you,” murmurs Mary as her hand strokes her hair. “You’re stuck with me for life.”

Drawing back to look into her eyes, a small smile tugs at Lilith’s features. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Leaning forward to close the gap, Lilith captures Mary’s lips with her own. It’s gentle and soft, filled with a quiet trepidation as if testing the waters, wondering if this is okay, if _they’re_ okay—and _they are,_ because Mary doesn’t pull back. Lilith melts into the kiss with a whimpering sigh, intoxicated by the feel of Mary’s lips moving against her own and how they fit so seamlessly together as if it were always meant to be because being here in her arms, she’s never felt more at peace.

Strong arms urge their bodies closer as Mary's hand threads through her silver locks, deepening the kiss. A light moan escapes Lilith's lips, the charged electricity from the days of pent up uncertainty and frustration surging through her veins and she's never wanted more of something in her life. When she thinks of desire and the concept that perhaps she is more than just her family's shadow, it's Mary who fills her vision and soothes her aching heart. From the first breathe of breaking dawn to the final sigh of deep twilight, it's always been Mary. 

Ever since this wayward girl entered her life, Lilith learned to expect the unexpected and came to understand that things don’t always go as planned. She had a clear path in mind as a child, thinking that by now she would be the church’s champion, defending the realm against the unspoken horrors of the universe with a team behind her. Instead, she’s become part demon herself, with no halo to show but a heart, fully content and a group of cherished friends beside her.

It’s in no way what she envisioned, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

* * *

Dear Journal, 

Perhaps this may be my final entry, as my life has taken quite a turn.

Ava is insufferable. She had been singing that _K-I-S-S-I-N-G_ song for the past twenty-four hours and while at least Sister Beatrice has the decency to look somewhat apologetic, that did not dissuade me from marching towards her with murderous intent.

Mary beat me to the punch though. With a swift kick, she sent Ava flying off the ramparts of Cat’s Cradle and hurtling down the hill at alarming speeds. Unfortunately, she’ll live.

We had golden silence for the following eight hours. 

Today was a good day.

Lilith

  
  
  



End file.
